


You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

by The10ofSwords



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gangsterstuck, Heh heh, M/M, Suits of Cards, little bit of blackrom too, some of those relationships are just moirails, stupid mushy feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:55:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The10ofSwords/pseuds/The10ofSwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a story idea that popped into my mind, it's set in my hometown so I can describe it easier, without having to make everything up. Basically in this AU, the 12 troll families are split into 4 gangs, as Suits in a card deck. The blackrom suits hate the redrom suits, but the concupiscent-conciliatory gangs are allies for the most part. This is a GamTav fic, because I'm hopelessly in love with the pair, and it's mostly from Tavros' point of view because some of his past is going to mirror my own. I promise I will make them all as in character as possible, but remember, this is an AU, so certain things change depending on the way they're raised. Also, most of the Pre-Scratch trolls are going to be a mix of themselves and the Ancestors, to make them more adult-like. so yeah. Hope you enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: the Introduction
> 
> Constructive criticism is appreciated.

It was a well known fact in the less sunny streets of Milwaukee, the streets you don’t see on tours, the streets and alleyways where people get shot, the dilapidated gas stations where they sell more than just chips and soda, that a glance or misstep, a hushed curse, could escalate into a violent altercation. On the North side of the city, gang violence was not uncommon. From North Avenue to Burleigh, 60th to Sherman, the four Suits are locked in a constant war. 

The Spades, led by a mountain of a man named Kurloz Makara, a twisted and brutal man. Under his tenuous control are Aranea Serket and her younger sister, Vriska, two deceivingly beautiful women, and Cronus and Eridan Ampora, skilled with firearms. Kurloz has one son, a lanky but muscular kid at the age of 19, Gamzee. Violent by nature, sloppy in appearance, he’s often underestimated in his skills.

The Clubs, with a strained allegiance to the Spades, Porrim Maryam, a certified doctor, and her daughter, Kanaya, who has gained much knowledge from her mother. Equius, the muscle, and Horuss Zahhak, the brains, probably aren’t biologically related, but they grew up together in a boy’s home until they broke out. Then the Pyrope sisters, Latula and Terezi. Latula is an old-school skater girl but skilled in hand-to-hand combat, and Terezi, while blind, remains a vicious rival, very partial to sharp tools.

The Diamonds. Sworn enemies of both previous gangs, but loyal allies to the Hearts. Led by Meenah Peixes and her devoted sister Feferi, strifing via tridentkind, and backed up by the silent and deadly Leijons, Meulin and Nepeta, are the harbingers of trouble. Mituna Captor is unpredictable, and often left behind. His son, Sollux, stays behind with him and provides assistance from a distance with his circuit board of a brain.

And finally, the Hearts, sworn enemy of the Spades and therefore the Clubs, ally to the Diamonds. Led together by Kankri Vantas, Damara Megido, and Rufioh Nitram in a form of democracy, they are a cold-blooded killing machine often using unconventional objects as efficient weapons. Karkat, the son of Kankri, follows that same pattern, using scythes as his weapon of choice. Damara’s cousin, Aradia, is a strange hollow girl who doesn’t hesitate to get her dress bloody. Finally, Tavros Nitram, dominated by his older brother, a meek and ineffective fighter, but a saint when it comes to tending to the injured.

Life on these streets is dangerous, where rivalry runs deeper than blood.


	2. Unkind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm making out little personality things for each character, so there won't be any 'just there' people. I'd like to hear anything about what I can do to make the writing less awkward, i dont know. I'm trying at least, haha.

_No._

The first time the notion had occurred to him. 

_Stop._

The first time he would stand his ground.

_I wont._

The last time he would take the pain in silence.

Tavros Nitram, age 13, was fighting back for the first time, fighting against the man who held him down and stole his innocence behind closed doors.  
The man’s sweaty body was trapping him with its crushing weight, holding his thin arms against the sheets, like so many times before. He had come in through the front door like he owned the place (he even had a key, a ‘family friend’); tread up the stairs and through the hallway, to Tavros’ door. He never bothered knocking. Tavros had stopped trying to run or hide. The man never asked him to obediently remove his clothes, or lie on the bed. He liked to use his own brute strength to throw him around, to feel powerful. It was the routine.

But this time, something was different. This time, the small boy would have his revenge.  
This time, as the man forced himself painfully into his too-small body, Tavros suddenly bucked up, rolling the man off him and onto the floor. It took one terrifying second for him to extricate himself from the man, to gain some ground on him before he could catch him. 

_Oh god oh god oh god_

Tavros had planned this out. He fought to stay calm, breathe, keep a clear mind. Like Rufioh had taught him. He staggered out of the room, the shouting of curses motivating him to run faster. He entered the room at the end of the hallway, his brother’s room. He heard the man bursting out of his own room. He opens a drawer, where he knows his brother keeps his gun. 

_Do it._

He takes the loaded weapon into his hand. It was always loaded. The safety clicked off. The gun’s weight anchored him, brought him back to reality. Today, he would have to kill a man. Today, Tavros would become one.

As the man bursts through the door, bare and furious, he takes aim. The bastard freezes. Anyone can see the cold look in Tavvy’s eye, the way he holds the gun without shaking, standing, finally, on his own. The kid had never been a fighter. He’d liked to play with the stray animals in his backyard, bring them food and patch them up when kids threw rocks at them. He wouldn’t get into fights at school, never started an argument. 

The man now realizes what he’s turned this kid into. And that is when true fear strikes him. He bolts out of the room, runs down the stairs. In his haste, he trips and falls to the base of the staircase, on the kitchen floor. He looks back. There’s Tavros, the boy that’s been used once too many times. There’s his pistol, trained to the man’s watering eyes. 

Tavros feels like he isn’t attached to his own body anymore. He’s a fly on the wall, watching this scene unfold. Watching the man beg for his life, his voice sounding muffled and far away. The muted bang, a misty explosion of red. 

For the next few seconds, all the boy could hear was the ringing in his ears. But all too quickly it faded out, and he was thrust back into the real world, expelled from the comforting womb of his mind, born again. But his rebirth was nothing to celebrate. 

He remembers cleaning the mess, numb to everything. He forced the body into a garbage bag. He must have dressed himself at one point, before he heaved the bag over his shoulder, his shovel tied to his back, and disappearing into the night. 

He wouldn’t eat for days. He lay in his bed until his brother returned days later, and he began to wake up. For almost a month afterward, his brother looked at him with concern, unknowing. But as time passed, his behavior was passed off as hormones, and things returned to normal. Tavros found it easier to forget.  
Sometimes Rufioh would wonder where his friend had disappeared to, but he eventually accepted the fact that he wouldn’t be coming back.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun shining through the windows awoke you. Sitting up, running his fingers through his shaggy hair, Tavros groans. You dress yourself, don’t bother checking the mirror. Half awake, you lumbers down the stairs, enticed by the smell of food. You found Rufioh in the kitchen, busily frying eggs and ham. Both brothers hated getting up so early, but they had something of an appointment today. 

Rufioh had been involved in his gang since their parents had died, leaving them with nowhere to go, no family members who actually gave a shit. The Megido family had helped them back onto their feet, the only daughter being Tavros’ only friend. He and Aradia had been inseparable since the age of 6, both having a passion for fantastical adventure. They were both 19 now. The Nitram brothers had scraped together a new life, Tavros had finished high school and was an intern at the public hospital, allowed as an exception because he had taken night classes in nursing and health since 14. Rufioh had started as a truck driver, but he didn’t like leaving Tavros home alone for extended periods of time, and now he worked moving furniture and things.

The Megidos were a bit intense, but they truly cared about the Nitrams. Aradia’s mother, Damara, was a sturdy Asian woman who put her hair in a bun and accented it with decorational chopsticks. Aradia took after her in appearance, but wore plain and unassuming clothes instead of her mother’s kimonos and traditional dresses. Damara was the one who had asked Rufioh to join, saying that some of the best ways to make a living were not entirely ethical. This life came with a price, but the rewards were well worth it. 

Damara had helped another pair in the same way, Kankri and Karkat Vantas. Kankri’s wife died of cancer soon after Karkat was born, they hadn’t had the money to get her treatment. The in-laws threw them out, and they slept in the streets until Damara found them. She put on a serious front, but she was a compassionate woman to her adopted and biological family. 

Kankri, while a complacent man who could talk himself out of trouble with ease, often spoke more than necessary. His son, Karkat, was constantly in a very vocal irritated state, his volume locked on the highest setting and a fouler mouth than any sailor. Tavros didn’t mind him though, because Karkat tended to quiet down around him. You were conservative with your words, and your silence seemed to sober the others around you. Sometimes people just needed someone to listen.

Together, they were the suit of Hearts. 

Tavros was never shy to display this, having an ornate heart tattooed on his bicep. He had several tattoos, and more than a few piercings. He had his ears gauged- not too big, but certainly not small- a septum piercing, and an eyebrow piercing. He kept his hair short on the sides, making a Mohawk of sorts, and painted his nails black. The Nitrams were Hispanic, born tough- Rufioh much bulkier and rugged than Tavros, who was on the leaner side. 

But enough for introductions, I mean really.

As the brothers prepared themselves for the day, Tavros let his mind wander. You hadn’t had much of an interest in anyone lately, boy or girl, though you preferred the former. You really need to get out more.

“Ready?”

Rufioh asked, then stood, taking both empty plates to rest in the sink, looking back at him with one eyebrow cocked. Tavros stood with a nod, and you both absconded through the front door. It was only a few blocks to the Megido’s house, where the meeting was happening. It was to be a peaceful conference between the Hearts and Diamonds, not rivals, but not exactly friendly either. Usually kids (who weren’t quite kids anymore) would chill out in the kitchen and talk. The grown-ups can have their tension and rivalry, but the teens didn’t think it applied to them too much. Even some of the Clubs kids weren’t so bad, though Equius could be kind of a dick. 

You open the door, and let yourself in, Rufioh right behind you. You were, as usual, the last ones to arrive. ‘Fashionably late’, as Dr. Maryam would call it. 

You bypass the dining room, where the ‘adults’ sat, and headed into the kitchen. Aradia, Nepeta, and Feferi sat in a circle, smiling and laughing quietly. Karkat and Sollux were locked in a heated discussion that involved lots of swearing and lisping. 

The group of girls looked up as you walked in, waving you over. Somehow they had known the minute they saw you, you were not exactly a lady’s man. You had a feeling Nepeta had something to do with that, she was a hopeless romantic. Either way, you didn’t mind. You sit on the tiled floor with them.

Nepeta was on you instantly, smothering you with her affection. It was hard to believe sometimes, what the mere 15 year old could do to someone that crossed her.  
You couldn’t help but laugh a little. These were the people you wished you could call family. 

Nepeta, true to her form, was rattling out questions about your romantic life- which was nonexistent. 

“I’d bet money there’s boys trippin’ ovah ya feet, Tavvy! Body like yours, I’m surpised you can keep ‘em away! You got yoself a man yet? C’mon, spill!”

She looked up at him with her wide, dark eyes, and he rolled his eyes, shoulders sagging dramatically. 

“No, Nep, I don’t even know anybody who’s out the closet.”

Before he finishes his sentence, Nepeta and Feferi are making noises of disapproval.

“It ain’t my fault-!”

You try to defend yourself, but Nepeta cuts you off. 

“Naw, don’t try that shit wit’ me! You jus’ too scared to look!”

She grins mischievously, and you know she’s just trying to bait you into an argument. Instead, you say, “I see you still rockin’ them cornrows, Nep.”

She immediately retorts, as he knew she would, “Hey! Don’t be comin at my people like that!”

“Are you sayin only black people get cornrows?” Now Feferi was involved, being even darker than Nepeta herself. 

You exchange a sly smile with Aradia, knowing you’ve distracted the two for a good five minutes.  
The two of you watch the two black girls go back and forth, until the Karkat pipes up: “WHY MUST YOU FUCKING FEMALES CONSTANTLY MAKE SUCH A GOD DAMNED RACKET, JUST SHUT THE HELL UP AND FUCK OFF, IN ANY ORDER.”

“Ooh, I know you did NOT just try to rib on me, I will kick yo scrawny ass into next week!” Feferi responded, in kind.

Sollux even opened his mouth, but before he could say anything coherent, Meenah walked in. 

The kids look up at her, her thick lips colored bright magenta, her eyelids heavy with the same color, anticipating a lecture for being so loud. 

“That bitch-ass Serket ho got one of our dealers, so Diamonds are crackin’ out this bitch to go to war! An’ Tavvy, we gon’ need some help from you wit’ ya med skills, that alright?”

All the Diamond kids were on their feet before she finished, getting hyped for a rumble. You nod your consent, rising more slowly. 

“I’ll need to grab my medkit from home, where’s it goin’ down?” You ask. 

“Fitty-six an’ Hadley, hon.” Meenah winks at you and walks back to the dining room, getting her crew ready to go.

You leave through the back door, not one to waste time, and jog back home. Unlocking the door, you run up to your room and sling your backpack over your shoulder. It contains any supplies you might need. You hesitate for a moment, then reach for your butterfly knife, lying on your dresser. Allegedly you were considered untouchable, as a medic, but things happen, and not everyone plays by the rules. You strap the blade around you waist.

Feeling as ready as you’ll ever be, you shake a metaphorical tailfeather out the door.  
You bounce down the front stairs, and begin to jog north up 57th, towards Hadley. Crossing in between cars, playing a game of Frogger. Past another block of dirty houses. You’re on Hadley now. Turn right, a block to the left. 

_Breathe._

The day is just beginning, it feels wrong to be going into a fight. But this wasn’t something you could control. You duck into the alley where you assumed the actual action would happen. You take a deep breath, and peek around the corner of a garage. 

Gunfire started almost immediately, and you took cover. Shots were fired, voices cried out. You heard more than one cry of pain, and your heart did a little flip. It was something you just couldn’t control, the idea of people in pain made you cringe. He couldn’t wait any longer. One more breath, and…

Tavros broke cover, keeping low, making his way downtown- I mean down the alley. 

A body.

_Oh fuck._

Throwing care to the wind, you break into a run, kneeling beside the person you was beginning to realize that you didn’t know.

_Uhh_

But you’re on autopilot now, your hands betraying you for the strange man on the ground, his hair slicked back, tight pants and a white T-shirt. You turn the man over.

_His face…_

Two deep cuts split his face, bleeding like hell. You don’t skip a beat, don’t question who this guy is, just start cleaning the cuts, stitching sutures, wrapping the wound. You’re focused, intent on your job, making sure this man’s heart keeps beating. That’s your job, it’s what you do. You’re so focused, you don’t realize that your own people are gone, retreated after getting their revenge. That the people approaching you do not look friendly at all.

You tie the last knot, your hands slick with this guy’s blood, and finally look up- and up, to the painted face of a certain Kurloz Makara. 

\----------------------------------------------------

Gamzee Makara watches his father approach the dumbass kid kneeling over Cronus. What was this guy thinking?  
The kid looked up as he realized someone was in front of him. His whole demeanor changed in an instant, going from calm and collected to completely frozen in panic. 

Man, he didn’t stand a chance. 

The rest of your crew had come out of cover, Eridan was fighting to stay calm but you could see, his face expressionless except for his eyes, wide in shock, he couldn’t afford to lose the last of his family. Cousins, they’d grown up with Cronus’ dad until he was old enough to leave. From what you’d heard, the man used to beat them within an inch of their lives. It showed too, in the way they kept to themselves, never took a woman home with either of them, scared of what they might do. 

Vriska, may she burn in hell, had her trademark smirk plastered on her deceivingly perfect face. She’s probably getting off on this, sick bitch. Aranea, as usual, looked perfectly calm, happy even. The two of them were fuckin’ messed up, man.

You come back to the moment, as your loving father kneeled by the kid, grabbing his hair and yanking him closer. He drawled something, indistinguishable from where the eager audience stood, into the kid’s ear. His reaction was almost disturbing, like he couldn’t decide between terror or rage. Most people would’ve just pissed themselves already, but this little fella seemed different. Odd, for a scrawny lookin’ kid like that. 

It’d be a shame to watch him die. 

“Yo pops.” The words left your traitorous mouth before you could stop yourself. Man, you were gonna get it later for this.  
Kurloz’s eyes turned to you, burning a hole in your forehead.

“Can I fuckin’ help you, my bastard son?”

His voice was deep, and guttural. It came out in tones of sickeningly sweet, smooth venom. 

_Ah, fuck me._

Too late to back out now. All eyes were on you. Even the little Mexican was looking at him with the most convincing Bambi eyes. God damn. You had seen your dad do some sick shit to little guys in the wrong place at the wrong time. You couldn’t let it happen to this kid.

“That kid ain’t done nothing wrong. He done saved our man’s life, least that’s what it looks like to me.” The kid cringed as Kurloz’s grip tightened on his hair. He was looking you dead in the eye, probably about to fuck the kid up just to spite you.

To your surprise however, it was Eridan who spoke next.

“Aw, hell, Makara. Just let the kid go, eh? Gam’s right, Porrim ain’t nowhere near here, he’d a been dead already if the poor kid ‘adn’t showed up when he did. The least you can do, man.”

For a moment, nobody said a damn thing. Then Kurloz’s mouth hardened into a thin line, and he shoved the kid backwards onto his ass. He stood up, walking away without a word. Eridan was still looking at his cousin’s body. Vriska snickered, and Aranea followed your dad. 

The kid was quick to get up, standing defensively, looking between the three of you. He looked scared, and you couldn’t blame him. 

_Do I really look that motherfuckin’ murderous?_

Of course you fucking do, you moron. Your facepaint is still smeared from sleeping on it, your hair looks like it’s about to jump off your head and eat little children, and you’re barely over 120 pounds. You’re a fucking scarecrow-clown-nightmare come to life.

So much for first impressions. 

The kid suddenly bolts back the way he came, startling you. Vriska calls after him: “You better run faster than that, faggot!” Cackling, she gives chase halfway down the alley, then struts back like she thinks she’s intimidating. God, you hate her. To be honest, you don’t even know the Serkets personally very much at all. You don’t intend to change that.

This train of thought is going nowhere. What were you doing? Oh, Cronus. Eridan is ahead of you, heaving him up from under his armpits. You grab his ankles. Eridan wasn’t what you’d call your ‘best friend’, but you guys knew each other like the back of your hand. When you didn’t fit in with the others, you had found a mutual comfort in the company of one another. And you really didn’t mind, until now. That kid, he must be nice. Saving someone he didn’t even know. You feel like you should apologize, somehow. If you ever saw him again. 

But for now, you need to haul ass to the Ampora’s, because your dad is gonna give you one hell of a talk when you get home, and you’d like to just get that out of the way. Then maybe, you’d take a little stroll outside. Then maybe, you’d run into a certain kid with piercings and contradicting doe eyes.


	3. Wrong Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I keep naming the chapters after song titles, interpret that as you will. I've been looking at the story and the tags i have up currently, and I think I'm gonna change a few of the ships, if you have any suggestions, now's the time to pipe up ^.^
> 
> And, hm, what else. I appreciate the comments I've gotten so far, you guys are really nice! I hope you continue to enjoy my writings and whatnot.
> 
> And, I didn't want to add the humans at first, because I thought I'd have too many characters, but what do ya'll think?

Your name is Tavros, and you are standing in line at the corner store because your brother Rufioh does not possess the mental capacity to gather food necessary for human survival. Needless to say, you give him endless shit about it each time. Dude could make potatoes from a box, and that was about it.

Tutting to yourself, you place your items on the rolly thing you never learned the name for, and check out. As you’re leaving with your groceries, cutting across the parking lot, you see a girl, leaning on a car and smoking. You barely glance at her, just long enough to take in her taste in fashion (black tee, denim jeans, red converse, nothing special, except her blue lipstick. You bet she got it at Hot Topic. Ugh), but she appears to be following you now. Have you seen her before? You think so. This worries you.

You knew how to deal with this kind of thing, just walk around until they confront you or give up. Never let them know where you live.

So, you just kinda walked, not in any particular direction. She followed you, at a distance, but you would catch her reflection in a store window, or out of the corner of your eye when you crossed a street.

But it was a nice day. The weather was mild, the tail end of August, your favorite time of the year. Not as cold as winter, hot as summer, or damp like spring. You stopped by the remains of some old playground, hauntingly beautiful in its own way, and just appreciated its existence for a second or two.

A hand on your shoulder signals the end of this emotionally moving exposition. You jumped a little, looked over your shoulder and were met by the intense hateful glare of your sort-of stalker. Seeing her up close was different, she was pretty, but she had the attitude of a huge bitch. What a surprise.

You open your mouth to say something (hopefully) clever without screwing the words up as they formed, but she interrupts you, with

‘You don’t have to play hard to get, sweetie. I just wanna get to know you a little.’

She smiled in a very fakey fake way, and winked.

‘Uh, do I, know you..?’

‘Wow, I can’t believe you don’t remember me! Come on, we met almost a week ago. Except I chased you off… Literally!’ Insert bitch laugh here.

‘Oh…’ Yeah, now you remembered. You also want to abscond quickly in the opposite direction. This was the girl who ran you off, cackling delightedly. 

‘Ha! It was great. But, I totally just want to thank you for saving Cronus. He actually opened his eyes today! I bet he wants to thank you.’ Smirk. She's daring you to get in their way again. 

You need to get out of this situation quickly.

‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea, I mean, we-

‘Come oooooooon! Don’t be a pussy about it!.’

‘No, look, I don’t even know your name, and last time we met you tried to kill-‘

‘Oh, I’m Vriska, how rude of me! And I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘kill’, I just scared you a little. But that’s fun, its what friends do!’

Now you were quite fed up with this nonsense.

‘Tavros. That’s not making your argument any better, Vrixa-

No, that wasn’t right.

-your entire posse wants me, should want me, dead. I’m not gonna walk into one of their houses, or whatever.’

She looks insulted, and a little bit pissed. She must be taking offense to your common sense. Wow, that’s new. But she recovered her composure quickly, going back to smiley and the ‘I’m just wondering where I should put your body’ eyes. It was actually kind of scary how she did that. My, look at the time…

‘Well, I’m sure we’ll meet again! Maybe next time, Tavros!’

She did the flippy thing with her raven-black hair as she turned to walk away, the thing that girls do in high school drama flicks. Yeah, you’ll be seeing her again.

This is your cue to exit stage left, and get the hell home.

\----------------

You had made the mistake of asking Vriska if she had known that kid from a couple days back. Actually, you didn’t; you asked Eridan, and she overheard from the kitchen. You guys had been chilling at the Ampora apartment, playing video games. You had waited until she left the room to ask this. They could probably tell it was starting to bug him now, and had just been waiting for him to break and say something.

You had fallen right into the trap. Fuck, they always knew how to get a secret out of you. You didn't like to think you were so predictable. 

But Vriska had been spending more time out of the house for the last few days, and it was making you nervous. She was gonna say something horrible to him, or weasel her way into his pants- that thought made you more than a little mad. Which is completely justified by your concern for anybody connected to Vriska. 

But you were home-stuck, not wanting to put on you paint, and not wanting to go outside looking like you did.

So you make your way to the bathroom, to see how bad you really look.

Holy motherfuck.

Bruised eye, split lip, and one hell of a shiner on your left cheekbone. Plus you hadn’t shaved in a few. And your hair was a mess. And you were a towering toothpick. Man, you need to get your life together.

You pick your brush up off the counter, and spend a pathetically long time getting your hair flat. You look like a dark-haired Kurt Cobain. You are actually okay with this.

Dude, shave. Can’t be walking around like that caveman from Geico. Turn on the sink, get some of that wonderful fluffy stuff and lather it up. That had always been your favorite part. Not very manly, you suppose. But it was so silky. You lean towards your reflection, carefully drawing the razor across you cheeks, chin, and some of your throat.

Rinse. So easy, a caveman can do it. 

Not a scratch. You feel proud. You hear your phone go off in your bedroom. Somebody was texting you, and you probably know who.

You eventually rescue it from the maze that is your room, and turn it on to view the message.

cg: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY

He was responding to something you'd said earlier. You're a little too nervous to reveal it to the audience though, you still need time to think. 

tc: hey brother :o)

cg: I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER YOU REEKING MONGOLOID. I REFUSE TO TAKE PART IN ANY OF YOUR OCCULT BULLSHIT. 

You smirk. It was fun to get Karkat riled up. You had gone to the same school, graduated together. You guys were inseparable. Partners in crime. 

While thinking of a proper response, you notice that among the other things you have failed to maintain in the last few days was your nails. You painted them black, always. You just like them like that, it doesn't really mean anything. Eridan does it too, but his are better manicured. But now the black paint was chipping at the points, and your nails had grown enough to reveal a small strip of unpainted nail at the base. This you could not allow. You prided yourself on your ability to keep your nails in good shape, and dammit, you were not about to give that up. 

cg: WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GO ASSHOLE?

tc: aw shit man, i up and got distracted by my fuckin nails. paint's coming off, see

cg: THAT'S HILARIOUS. HOW DID YOU EVER HOPE TO CONCEAL YOUR GROWING HOMOSEXUALITY?

You cringe. 

tc: wait, no, i don't really know what's going on ok? i don't to put a label on it man, I don't know

cg: OKAY, YEAH. THAT WAS KIND OF AN ASSHOLE THING TO SAY. 

tc: it's all good bro, it's a weird subject. 

cg: I GET IT, YEAH. ARE WE STILL ON FOR BOWLING TOMORROW?

tc: of course motherfucker! no mongrlod could stop me!

cg: HA, IT'S 'MONGOLOID', AND COOL. CAN I BRING MY FRIEND THOUGH? I SORT OF TOLD HIM WE COULD HANG OUT TOMORROW, POOR FUCK NEEDS THE COMPANY. 

tc: the more the merrier, brother :o)

That was the only significant part of the conversation. At one point you glanced up from your phone and noticed that it was getting darker outside. You told your best friend that you needed to eat, and that he should too, before sitting up on the edge of your mattress. Dad's probably out on business. At least, that's what you assumed when he left yesterday. He works as a warden in the Waukesha County Prison, so he's there most of the time. That was perfectly fine with you, since the man wasn't exactly the kind of guy you'd hang out with. Or anyone, really. You wonder if he has any friends. 

Anyway, food. It was rare that you ate anything of nutritional value, preferring baked goods because hey, it's pretty much the only thing you're good at. Your dad didn't seem to care because he got his meals at work anyway. 

You walk into the kitchen, ducking instinctually under the doorframe. You didn't have very good depth perception, and you weren't taking any chances. You check the breadbox. Looks like there's still some banana bread from last week, a handful of cookies, and most of a rhubarb pie. What can you say? A man's gotta get his munch on, and you baked a lot when you were bored. You cut a slice of pie, carry it to the counter where you can eat comfortably. In a brief burst of pro-activity, you stop by the fridge and grab some carrots. Only vegetable you would eat voluntarily. 

You eat your dinner, which you aren't sure passes as a legitimate dinner, and mosey over to the couch. You guys don't have anything fancy like Netflix, so you browse the channels, settling on some cop show. You like this one, because you wanted to be the Forensics chick, all punk and independent. She had so much energy all the time. And so cute. 

Commercial break, you take care of your dishes. Settle back on the couch. Continue to stare at screen. 

Life, man, it's a great big ball of, uh... Fun. Okay, now is not the time for such philosophical ponderings. Your brain might have melted beyond repair if you hadn't been distracted by a knock on the door. You peel yourself out of your languid bed of apathy, and check the peekhole to see who's outside. 

Some dude's standing there holding a package, looking pretty shady to you. It must be a special delivery for Dad then. You open the door, take the package, and growl at him a little. You had been practicing that growl in the mirror for weeks, hoping it would redeem some of your manliness. You knew your dad had payed in advance, no reason to let that guy stick around any longer than necessary. He leaves in haste, and you smirk. 

You know damn well what's in the package. Your dad wasn't just born an angry, violent bear, his little powdery friend had helped him there. It was probably the only thing that kept you from doing crazy drugs like that, seeing your parents do it, love it, die for it. You smoked a little dope every now and then, but not enough to think of it as a habit. You wonder, if you had been born in a different life, you probably wouldn't have stopped once you started. Then you'd be the raging psychopath, probably kill the only friends you have. 

You toss the package onto the counter, and continue to watch tv until you fall asleep. 

\----------------

You wake up, mildly confused, before you realize you are Tavros. According to your phone, it's quarter to six. The only thing more fucked up than you was your sleep schedule. May as well get up, you're spending the day with Karkat and his friend, since Rufio was going out tonight. He liked the party lifestyle, but you usually kept your distance. You will probably end up sleeping at the Vantas' anyway. You can't be home alone, and Karkat understood. He was one of two people who knew why, the other being Aradia. 

So, you pick yourself up out of bed, stumble to the bathroom and begin your morning ritual. Once you feel relatively clean, you go back to your room to get the important stuff out of the way- getting dressed. In your best butler voice, you begin to narrate yourself. 

'What'll it be today, sir? Punk, goth? Pastel goth, perhaps? Ah, maybe a fine mix, a touch of denim and a more gothic edge.'

You settle on a well-fitting orange t-shirt, denim vest and some worn jeans. You exchange your gauges for an orange pair, and don a black leather choker for good measure. If you could not pride yourself in fashion tastes, well then what kind of butler would you be? Checking the clock, it's eight thirty now. You comb back your Mohawk, not bothering with gel today. You like it like this, feathery and soft. You burn another fifteen minutes on breakfast, and washing dishes. 

You've run out of things to do, with another hour and a half to waste. Karkat was gonna swing by around eleven, and they'd walk to the bowling alley. You decide to head back up to your room, and play some music. You know your musical tastes are pretty terrible, but you're okay with it. You start your Hollywood Undead playlist. You skip a few songs, and leave it on 'Lion', one of their new tracks. You hang out in there, scrolling through tumblr, and play some MMO RPG that needed some love, as it was just picking up an actual player community. You liked to help small businesses. 

You almost don't hear the door open downstairs, but you can't miss the friendly 'WE'RE LEAVING, FUCKER' from the bottom of the staircase. You check your back pocket for your wallet, and put your phone I'm the other. As you're leaving, you hear Ruf calling something along the lines of 'bye man' and you shout your farewell back. Karkat's on the porch, and as you shut the door he starts walking. 

'My friend's gonna meet us there, okay? And I'm telling you now, don't start a fucking conversation with him unless you want to hear about his cultist lunacy. I swear he means well, but he's weird as hell when you first meet him.'

You nod, and you walk alongside him all the way there in silence. It was a peaceful silence though, and Karkat had said once that that was what he liked best about you, your ability to shut the fuck up- his words, not yours. He wasn't well-received into social areas, and he always got in some altercation or another. And what you appreciated is that he came to you. He didn't want your protection, or help, because he could take care of himself in that department. But when he needed to talk about his self-hatred, his anxiety, his history, you were there. Unlikely friends in any other circumstance, but it fit. You felt safe with each other, which is a rare feeling for anyone in your life. 

You follow Karkat into the place, scoping the mostly empty bar, the six lanes, the shoe rental guy. And the anorexic ghoul that just popped up and attacked your friend, oh my god. You were actually ready to take a swing at it, but Karkat seemed to be giving in to the assault. This must be his eccentric friend then. Karkat fought his way out of the guy's embrace, glaring at him angrily before waving his hand at him unceremoniously and introducing him as 'this asshole, Gamzee,' and gesturing to you in the same manner, announcing 'Tavros'. 

You think it was at that moment that you realized who he actually was, and you saw the same flash of recognition and alarm displayed on his features. You try to offer some kind of greeting, because that's how humans interact, right?

'Hi um, Gamz-'

'Awww fuck this motherfucker is so sorry! I should've made Vri-'

'No, wait, it's okay, I don't-'

'But I just kinda stood there-'

'No, just calm down, I'm okay.'

'But I really am, real fuckin sorry bro, didn't mean no harm to a friend of Karbro's'

He had the strangest expression of fear and compassion, you weren't sure what to make of this. 

'What. The FUCK.'

You suddenly remember that Karkat is still a thing and exists, and he's staring from one of you to the other with his trademark angrily confused and slightly disgusted expression. 

'What the fresh fucking hell is going on here? You look like two waterbeasts on land, flopping around like fucking grounded pigeons' 

That was a more complicated analogy than was strictly necessary. You and Gamzee start to speak at the same time, but both of you shut up as you realize the other one is speaking. He waves to you, like 'you go first' while you're ducking your head and apologizing, and this is the most embarrassing thing ever so you just start talking. 

'Well, ah there was a fight last week, remember? And I went to go help, but our guys already left and...'

'And this motherfucker went to patch up my, uh, friend- well, friend's cousin, an pops lost his shit on him, an you know how that goes, so...'

'Yeah, and uh, I sorta got chased off by that bitch for-from the other day...' You trail of into uncertain silence. 

Karkat has been listening as his eyes got progressively wider and angrier, and he was now looking at the two of you in complete angry confusion. It was almost comical, or it would be if you weren't expecting the oncoming storm. It was very anticlimactic however, as he just threw up his hands and walked to the shoe rental booth. You and Gamzee both let out a sigh of relief, then move to follow him, letting Gamzee walk a step ahead of you. You were more comfortable when you could keep an eye on possible threats. 

But, when you think about it, you don't really expect him to try anything on you. He seemed genuinely sorry, and you hadn't really done anything wrong, except get in his way. You had heard about him killing a man once, so you have to err on the side of caution regardless of his- wait, woah, Karkat was friends with this guy? How in hell did that happen? There was no way Kankri would be okay with this, did he even know? You catch Karkat's eye, and he must know what you're thinking. He's looking at you, keeping his expression carefully blank, his gaze even, like he's saying he won't judge you if you leave. He won't blame you if you tell somebody. 

As Gamzee collects his shoes and makes his way to lane four, you murmur to Karkat,

'Wow man, you re-really have no faith. I'm hurt'. 

The side of his mouth quirks upward. He was visibly relieved. 

'Like I said, he means well'. 

\-----------------


End file.
